


Yellow Joy, Orange Fire, Red Desire

by SteeleStingray



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Paint, But whatever, Catch the side characters touching each other in the background, Drunk Sex, Fertility Festival, Fish out of Water, Laurent is a shy virgin, M/M, Mysterious Stranger - Freeform, No past tragedy, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Regent is not a thing, Rimming, So much goddamn body paint, There's a popsicle too, and a bit OOC, auguste lives au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16759012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteeleStingray/pseuds/SteeleStingray
Summary: When King Auguste of Vere asks his brother Laurent to go to Ios for their most sacred festival of the year Laurent and some of his men decide to go as a favor to Auguste and to foster goodwill with their new Akielon allies.Only recently having opened up trade and communications with Akielos, Laurent has no idea how the Akielons celebrate their annual Fire Festival. His hosts are notoriously tight-lipped about what the festival entails but Laurent is determined to enjoy himself and become immersed in all the local traditions. Luckily there is a handsome stranger in the crowd who is more than happy to give him an intimate guide to the festival.





	1. Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!  
> Welcome to my 2nd big bang (though this one is a mini bang)! I didn't have the time to make another behemoth like Snakeskin but I do have 3 chapters in store for you all I'll be posting over the next 3 days!  
> I really just wanted to write some smut, I always love making up myths/traditions for the Capri universe, and I've been rewatching some of the lavish parties from Spartacus which is 90% of my inspiration for this fic.  
> Surely the Akielons cut loose every year ;)  
> In any case, this is an Auguste Lives AU where nothing bad has ever happened to Laurent, save that he's a quick little shit, and he's a virgin so if anything seems OOC...blame it on that! He's so thirsty this will be good for him; I just wrote this as a guilty pleasure!  
> Big shout-out to my artist [Frau-argh](http://frau-argh.tumblr.com/) (whose drawing I'll reveal during the last chapter) and to all the lovely people on the Capri Discord Channel who talked me through some of these parts and let me share some snippets of the story!  
> I hope you enjoy!

**Yellow Joy, Orange Fire, Red Desire**

** Yellow. **

As their ship made port in the dock, Laurent steadied himself for a long afternoon of being sociable in a language that was not his mother tongue. Normally he would avoid these scenarios at all costs but Auguste had asked him to go on this diplomatic visit and Laurent would do anything for his king, his beloved brother.

Vere had been at peace with Akielos since Laurent was eight years old but he had never once crossed the border.

Auguste had been a few times and said that he found the people kind, quaint, and straightforward in a way that no book could describe. Laurent was nineteen, cool and assured in comparison, and had shown no interest in an alliance marriage so when Auguste had received an invitation to the largest Akielon festival of the year and found his duties would not allow him to attend, he insisted that Laurent be the diplomatic one and go spread goodwill.

“Simply promise that you will not spend all your time inside reading.” Auguste beseeched as he was trying to warm Laurent to the idea. “A diplomatic visit does imply that you actually interact with your hosts.”

“Duly noted. I will spend time reading outside as well.” Laurent responded and Auguste looked pained at his brother’s contrary nature.

He had indeed been thinking of the open, airy Akielon libraries he had seen in the pages of the old volumes in the library at Arles. Perhaps he could beg a budget to update their books on Akielos, as most had been purchased when their father was Auguste’s age. They did not have much on the festival itself past one line: ‘a yearly harvest festival, celebrated on the night between the last day of summer and the first day of autumn’.

While he was poorly equipped in that aspect, his Akielon was decent enough to insult anyone who paid him a rude compliment.

He acquiesced to his brother’ request and took a small group with him on the ship to the port of Ios.

To protect his beloved brother, Auguste had assigned Jord and Lazar from his own King’s Guard to go as escort; Berenger, the royal treasurer, had delicately requested to come along to propose trade deals to the crown prince and the _kyros_ of Ios while Guion of Fortaine had had a very similar idea and bullied his youngest son, Aimeric, into going. Also joining their group was Berenger’s ‘pet’, Ancel, who had once been a traveling fire dancer but now danced solely for a court audience under Berenger’s patronage.

They had all changed into plain chitons below deck—white, to match the pallor of their skin—and Laurent was distracted trying to keep the skirt from blowing up and exposing his entire ass to the Akielon fishermen and merchants.

Beyond the paltry length of his skirt and the Akielon predilection to traipse about sans undergarments, Laurent was able to really admire the rocky port of Ios.

The water was clear and teal so that anyone who looked over the railings of their boats could see all the way to the bottom and it was not uncommon to see the silver diamond winks of swimming fish or the smooth gray hump of a dolphin beneath the waves. Boats were crammed around the various docks like fish in a giant school, their sails billowing out in merry bands of red, white, and yellow. The strip of cobblestone just above the dock was frothing and churning with activity as men and women hauled boxes of cargo, nets of squirming fish, led beasts up and down gangplanks; beyond them was the beginnings of the city itself: white houses and businesses with the same bright awnings to match the boats.

People paused their work for only a moment to see the elegant Veretian ship slide silently through the noisy place, perhaps wondering who the ghosts on board with skin that matched their houses were. Laurent heard one of the fisherman shout, ‘Beautiful,’ from his little boat but he was unclear as to whether the comment was meant for him, Ancel, Aimeric, or the Veretian ship so he ignored it.

The ship moved past the crowded docks to the one that modestly populated with larger ships. Ships with deep violet sails.

There was a large group waiting on the end of the dock and Laurent had immediately begun to prepare himself for the long and exhausting duty of being talkative and engaging.

He put on his most charming smile as he descended the gangplank and was instantly greeted by one of the tallest men he had ever seen.

He towered over the men next to him, his body a fine study in the muscles of the masculine form to the point that Laurent, a young man with the healthy form of a swordsman, dwindled to insignificance next him. He looked as though he might be able to pull their ship to shore with his own two hands and Laurent gaped accordingly at the visible muscle. He smiled through his beard and Laurent flushed on realizing that he had been caught staring.

“Prince Laurent?” The man asked in perfect Veretian.

“Is me.” Laurent said in response and his voice sounded dreamy to his ears. He blinked back the stupor and corrected himself. “I am Prince Laurent of Vere, yes.”

“Then I welcome you to my home,” he replied, brightening even further, “I am Kastor, the son of Theomedes and half-brother to Crown Prince Damianos.” Then he leaned forward to give Laurent the customary Veretian greeting of two kisses on the cheeks.

Laurent was so flustered by the quick, easily intimacy that he forgot to pantomime the return kisses and felt that his legs were a little jellied when he stepped back.

“P-Pleased to meet you.”

Even so, he could not help but wonder if this was a slight against him. Though Auguste was attempting to change the perception of bastards in Vere, it was slow going and it seemed quite an oversight on the Akielons.

Kastor made the rounds of introductions in Veretian but Laurent might as well have had beeswax stuffed into his ears for all he heard. His hearing was blocked out by the gentlest of smiles and the chiseled jaw of a man distinguished in his thirties. He did not hear Berenger clearing his throat politely when their hosts asked Laurent a direct question that went unanswered.

He had never been so flustered in all of his life.

“My younger brother had all intention of hosting you but he is away with a most pressing concern to me and will return the night before the festival.”

“It is…no matter.” Laurent could be perfectly entertained by any of the men present. He watched attentively as a phalanx of them tucked their sashes into their waistbands and showed off their impressive physiques while unloading the ship. _No_ , he thought to himself as he watched Kastor’s muscles bunch attractively underneath the folds of his chiton, _this diplomatic visit would not be so terrible after all_ …

Laurent made sure to write thorough reports of his visit to Auguste including the people he met who would be open to trade or sympathetic to Veretian interests. He could not help but let his delight of the country seep into his tone.

Ios and the surrounding areas were beautiful, the people were so warm and kind…

And really Kastor was the most attentive host.

Upon hearing that Laurent had somewhat archaic knowledge of Akielon culture, the half-prince took it upon himself to personally show Laurent some of their more beloved activities. Laurent had been prepared to read through an extensive pile of books provided by the royal library but the moment the offer was extended, he closed the book in his hand.

“I will not take you away from your duties in preparing for the festival?” He asked, already standing up.

Kastor looked down pointedly, as Auguste might, and Laurent remembered, with a blush, to pull down the hem of his chiton. “Not at all. The servants enjoy the opportunity to decorate the palace. I would only be underfoot. And besides, Your Highness, you are much more pleasant company than all of the documents that need my urgent attention.”

“You flatter.” Laurent responded dryly, but he had followed without any further complaint.

So they had gone to the sweeping acres of olive and grape arbors just outside the city walls, toured the city of Ios itself, and eaten at the restaurants by the dock where the fish cooked before them still sizzled with seawater when placed on the grill.

The wrestling bout inside the soldier’s barracks was of especial interest to Laurent.

He had read that Akielons wrestled in the nude but it was another thing entirely to see it in person. All that firm, sun-kissed flesh was oiled to a golden sheen and shuddered and flexed as the competitors attempted to gain the upper hand. Laurent found he was holding his breath and crossing his legs as he watched. He nearly leapt to his feet with applause when the young captain of the guard emerged victorious from the bout.

As the young man knelt before the royals in attendance, Laurent could not help but notice that the tip of his cock nearly brushed the sand. He wondered to himself if all Akielons were so beautifully hung. It seemed like a question someone like Lazar was more adept to handle.

“I would like to extend honored challenge to the captain of Aegina,” The young victor announced his intent and the spectators cheered as Kastor got to his feet in acceptance.

Laurent felt his heartbeat in the roof of his mouth as he heard the sound of a chiton being removed and tossed carefully over the arm of the chair next to him. He tried not to look at the abundance of dark brown skin that had suddenly been revealed next to him. He did not count a weak will amongst his negative qualities but he was curious.

Akielon soldiers were of a form that could stop people in their tracks.

The parts concealed under the chiton were even better than imagining. Laurent felt his mouth go a little dry as he saw the round buttocks quiver as Kastor walked to the wing. He was the same as his young captain and would nearly brush the sand if he knelt…

Laurent remembered very little about the match itself, beyond wondering if either man would make the same noises if a lover were to dig their fingernails into the flesh of his ass during lovemaking. Of course, the younger man, Pallas, won to thunderous applause and Laurent made sure to congratulate him on the fine showing after the chiton was put back on.

“Did you enjoy the spectacle?” Kastor asked him, not even winded from the vigorous activity. “My brother is better than I am when it comes to sports. You should have him challenge Pallas when he returns.

“I…it was… _eye-opening_.”

He did not remain near the wrestling sands for much longer, choosing to return to his quarters and bolt the door before dinner. He spilled into his hand three times, the sheets clenched between his teeth as he replayed the match again and again but with his face pressed down to the earth, his naked body pinned tight against an Akielon’s.

And when he returned to dinner and his milked cock twitched with interest the moment a handsome Akielon soldier smiled at him, Laurent knew he was well and truly fucked.

The festival fell on their tenth day in Akielos.

Kastor had explained during one their tours of the city that preparations had been underway for the better part of a month and Laurent was finally seeing the Akielon craftsmanship on a scale of complexity hitherto unseen in his books on Akielos. Having grown up in the elaborate confection that was the palace of Arles, he had a certain respect and a fine eye for beautiful things. 

The city of Ios had been transformed seemingly overnight. 

The stark white walls of the buildings had been painted in elaborate designs in reds, oranges, yellows and gold leaf so that in the light of sunrise and sunset the city looked as though it had caught flame. Flowers in fuchsia, red, and orange had been picked in large basketfuls and woven through trellises and into long garlands that hung heavy above the streets and over doorways. Thousands and thousands of candles had been melted into molds, infused with scent, and sold to the citizens of Ios to be lit on the night of the festival.

Blown glass bulbs and baubles that Kastor had explained were passed down for generations had been hung on delicate golden chains and sent slices of colored light glittering on the cobblestones until the streets shimmered like fairy paths.

Laurent was particularly enchanted by the royal glass works: the delicate seahorses with round opal eyes, a jaguar with gold and indigo flecks, running horses in crimson and sunburst and milky stripes. The guest suite he was staying in had been transformed into a glass menagerie. 

He woke early in the day to the sound of the sea and of faint but exuberant music.

Usually Laurent was the type to roll over and relax in the late summer sun for another hour or so, but he remembered the reason for the music and practically rolled out of bed so he could go wash and get ready.

At least he was becoming more and more used to the way chitons were assembled because he was able to put one on in record time. Still, he had to be careful running, lest he show the entire palace his ass.

He had spent most mornings sharing a late breakfast with Prince Kastor and some of the Akielon captains and hurried down to where they usually met.

He stopped short at the doorway, a good bit of disappointment greeting him from within.

A woman was leaning down next to Prince Kastor and he smiled up at her before kissing her gently on the lips. It was a kiss shared between two people who were obviously used to kissing one another on a daily basis.

“Good morning.” Laurent cleared his throat and they ceased their passion, the young woman looking up at him.

She was a beauty, with ash blonde curls and gray-blue eyes, and she too kissed Laurent firmly on both cheeks. “A pleasure, Your Highness.” She said, smiling at him in a way that might have easily swayed men who were not as staunchly fond of men as Laurent. “My name is Jokaste.”

“My fiancée,” Kastor clarified with a loving gaze leveled at her.

 _Shit_. Laurent’s fledgling interest was crushed immediately, replaced by a charming smile and a strong feeling of resignation. “Delighted to meet you, my lady.” _This was nothing new._ His few childhood crushes had also ended in the object of his affections choosing another, usually someone with a sweeter temperament.

He sat through the breakfast feeling awkward, despite Jokaste and Kastor’s sincere efforts to bring him into the conversation. Jokaste apologized for her absence and the Crown Prince’s.

“We managed to settle things with the _kyros_ of Aegina and Prince Damianos insisted on being back by daybreak so that we might best prepare for the festival. The prince is currently with his friends and has promised to meet you formally tomorrow morning.” Upon hearing that it was Laurent’s first festival, she shot Kastor a nervous look. “Are you…quite prepared for this evening’s festivities?”

Laurent was not. He had no idea what the activities of the festival entailed, but he did not want to appear foolish to the young woman. “Yes, I am very excited to see what you all will have in store for me.”

Jokaste shot her fiancée a look of disbelief and Laurent wondered if she was able to see right through him.

“It is so…refreshing to see visitors who are open to new experiences. Perhaps we will bump into each other on the streets.” Kastor gave her a look then that made it clear he would be utterly mortified if Laurent were to see them together during the festival and Laurent bristled at the feeling of being unwelcome.

“Perhaps.”

Laurent said it lightly but he had already sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power not to run into them this evening. He did not want to spend time being the unwelcome third between a soon-to-be-married couple. No, he would be avoiding Kastor and his lovely Jokaste at all costs.

It was nearly dusk by the time someone came to fetch Laurent and his men and bring them down to one of the lavish bathrooms in the palace of Ios.

Set off in pairs, Laurent was forced to converse with Lazar.

He was currently discussing why the others were looking so distinctly on edge with each other. “Aimeric is burning up right now, the poor little virgin, and hard to blame him when Jord won’t even kiss him on the lips. He’d best do it before some bronzed Akielon god sucks the nectar out of him. And poor Ancel is trying to get Berenger to admit that he is willing to fuck _anyone_. Must be good to have so much conviction that you refuse to show interest in a pet under your patronage.”

He did have a point.

Ancel was clearly sulking through the long red curtain of his hair, refusing to even look at Berenger while Jord and Aimeric were circling each other, blushing when they so much as brushed against one another. Laurent wondered what it was about travel that made people so desperate.

“What about you, Lazar?”

Lazar shrugged but there was a wicked glint to his light brown eyes. “I have my eyes on one or two but in my experience southern ripened men prefer to be wooed. Gods, how am I to choose between all the great beauties Akielos has to offer? Hopefully tonight I can make my intentions known.” Laurent rolled his eyes slightly and heard the door open behind him. “And _speaking_ of beauties…”

Two lovely young men—dancers by the look of their golden, nearly sheer clothes—entered the room with a tray of paints and shy little smiles that made Laurent wonder if this was also their first festival.

“Your Highness,” the one with black hair woven with pearls and pearl studded hoops through his nipples, “we are here to help you and your men prepare for the festivities tonight. I am Kallias.”

“And I am Erasmus.” Offered the other with a deep pink blush under his freckled skin.

“Paint?” Jord asked in disbelief.

“If you do not wish it, we have been instructed to let you be.” Erasmus said, shying away. “We are at your command.” He looked so disappointed at the very idea that they would not be fully enjoying the festivities that Laurent felt an immediate twinge of guilt. Paint it would be then.

“It would be rude to refuse our host’s tradition.”

First, they were helped into chitons that layered like gauze but still managed to show every curve and blush in the right light. They were delightfully breezy but Laurent was silently praying that the darkness of the evening would obscure his lower half. So used to tight, austere Veretian clothes, everyone but Ancel and Lazar looked wildly uncomfortable, attempting to hide the cruxes of themselves with splayed hands and crossed legs.

The fabric settled between the rounder parts of Laurent’s ass and he was trying to figure out a way to fix this problem when charming Erasmus returned with a clay pot of paint.

For the benefit of his royal blood, Laurent was given paint that dried to a consistency like gold leaf. He trembled slightly as Erasmus laid the brush to his skin and Erasmus noticed. “You are remarkably sensitive, Your Highness.”

“Less speaking, more painting please.”

“Apologies for my free opinions.”

Laurent, never one to be free with affection to strangers, felt a small pinprick of guilt over his terse tone and patted the young man’s head. His bronze-gold hair felt like lamb’s wool and Laurent intercepted a glare from Kallias as Erasmus blushed from the attention.

‘Easy on,’ Laurent thought as the paintbrush tickled him again, ‘he’s too slender for my tastes.’

“Is this your first festival?” Laurent asked politely hoping he could glean more information from Erasmus. He seemed to be thrumming with energy and excitement, despite his steady hand.

“Oh yes!” Erasmus’ joy was clear in his tone, “Well…not exactly I suppose. Kallias and I are from Marlas further north and we decided to come to Ios for our first participation. Up until fifteen Akielon children are only allowed the festivities of the daylight hours: eating the rich foods of the harvest, dancing, games, hearing the stories of why the gods bless us with traditions like this. It is not until sixteen that we may view the twilight celebrations from the balconies of our homes. At eighteen we can attend the entire nightly festival if we wish. Kallias and I thought to…begin our first time with fanfare in our largest city.” His large amber eyes flicked to Kallias’ legs, once, twice…

“People can choose not to attend?” Laurent asked, shuddering in spite of himself as Erasmus made a deft curl on his left hipbone.

“Of course.” Erasmus beamed as he made a matching swirl on the opposite hip. “Since you are a guest you are not required to do anything you dislike. We are not in the habit of forcing our desires on anyone really. No matter what you may see or hear tonight you are not required to do anything you find distasteful.”

Laurent wanted to shake him by the shoulders and demand more information. He wanted to know more about this festival and what he should expect when he left the civility of this room.

Yes, it was a fertility festival, that was all well and good, but how did they celebrate? Why did everyone remain so secretive? Were they afraid he was going to run from the hills? Sail back to Arles screaming for war? Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

He resisted the urge. If he were to grasp Erasmus by the shoulders, his fingers would leave smudged, obscene prints in the beautiful mess of copper curlicues that had been painted on his freckled shoulders. And Kallias would glare again.

When the painting was finished, Erasmus and Kallias helped anyone in the party who wished to wear jewelry, an offer only Ancel took them up on.

“You have no jewelry, Your Highness?” Kallias asked, his voice all moonlight and cool silver in comparison to Erasmus’ warmth. “Sapphires or aquamarine would suit you well.”

“I am not particularly fond of jewelry.” Laurent responded and loved the young man all the more for the way he half rolled his eyes. As if to say that only royalty could afford such a sentiment.

“If you please, wait for a moment.” Kallias said and Laurent could see how he almost left out the ‘please’. Erasmus would be helpless against such a force of nature, he thought as Kallias raced from the room.

While he waited, Laurent enjoyed watching most of his men move about stiffly as the paint dried. Ancel and Aimeric were both decorated in emerald green, thought they wore it differently. Aimeric’s were delicate vines and he moved gingerly in fear of sullying them, while Ancel’s were sinuous as snakes and he strutted about without second thought, his emeralds and hair always managing to miss the artwork by some design of the gods. Jord was in a shimmery dark blue that encircled in patterns over his arms and neck and stomach, Berenger had similar designs but in the dark red-brown of garnets and they sat rigidly on a lounging sofa. Lazar was the only one with a mix of colors: all fire tones in yellow and orange and red, that snaked up in bold slashes from his hips to his left temple. He too wore his with a lazy sort of carelessness, as if he knew the paint would be smudged in due time.

Laurent was nervous about seeing himself in a reflective surface, wondering if he looked as easy as Lazar and Ancel, or just like himself in garish mimicry with his body showing through the drapes of his skirt.

When Kallias returned, there was something sparkling in his hands and he held it out to Laurent, his eyes bold as if daring him not to take it.

“To cover your hair.” He offered as Laurent felt the cool weight of stones and chains settle into his palm.

It was a golden sort of veil that covered his head and neck and collar with the delicate golden links; the entire thing was studded in white and teal opals that blazed fire when turned. Kallias’ fingers were smooth on Laurent’s skin as he helped him don and adjust the diadem so that it did not mar the paint.

“Very fetching.” Kallias nodded as though Laurent would be completely and utterly useless without his beauty assistance. What a saucy little thing he was.

Before Laurent could decide whether or not to strike a little nervousness into the dancer’s heart, Erasmus came to his side with an array of delicate masks arranged on a silver serving tray and a blush that had Kallias staring.

The masks were made of layers of paper soaked in glue—a common thing in Vere—whereupon they hardened and were carved and painted by craftsmen.

“Your Highness, if you choose to go as you are, the people of Ios will recognize you as foreigners and our honored guests and you will be allowed to move about the city virtually unbothered. But…if you wish to experience it as an Akielon does…then please choose a mask for yourself.”

“Will all the people in the city be wearing jewels?” Lazar asked with teasing in his tone. “Not much good a mask will do when they see those opals.”

Kallias judged him coolly and then flushed as Lazar called his bluff by kissing at him. “Some will. Others have paste gems.”

“Fuck it.” Lazar said, snatching the one closest to him. “Another excuse to make terrible, anonymous decisions.” He fastened the mask over his eyes and forehead with a crimson ribbon and the transformation was instantaneous. He went from a rakish guardsman to something out of Akielon lore. A trickster god perhaps, or a robber king.

“My prince?” Jord asked, completely ignoring Lazar’s nonchalance.

Laurent hesitated for only a moment, recalling how very evasive all the Akielons had been when he had asked for specifics about the festival. But he did like the idea of traveling incognito. Hell, he had seen Auguste do it when he thought no one was watching and wished to sneak away to the brothels. Why couldn’t Laurent do the same? Traveling incognito that was.

If anything he could say it was for the sake of honoring his host’s culture.

“I’ll have the blue and violet one, please.” The colors were soft and pale, like the very beginnings of a spring sunrise, and painted white and orange lilies blooming around the border.

His ribbon was white and he felt the burden of identity lift from him as he fastened it over his eyes.

He was no longer a prince or a diplomat or even Laurent. He was just a young man about to attend his first Akielon Fire Festival. He looked at himself in the mirror as his men tied on their masks and found that, if anything, the Akielons certainly knew how to dress for their festivals. He looked like a young god in disguise.

“You look so lovely, Your Highness.” Erasmus said without an ounce of guile. “I swear to tell no one of your disguise.”

“Thank you.”

Erasmus linked his fingers through Kallias’ and Laurent and his unrecognizable entourage followed the hypnotic sway of their hips out of the bathing room and into the eerily empty halls of the palace. They were so empty, all the doors flung wide open as if everyone had made a hasty escape. The only people they encountered were soldiers who looked young and green as shoots; they did an admirable job of not ogling though they did turn red at the ears.

The candles and torches had been lit by the missing servants and now the marble floors of the palace were lit up with chips of color from the hanging glass. As he walked, Laurent marveled at the rainbow freckles that shimmered across his skin like scales on a fish.

They walked down the smooth stone path leading to the royal palace, down to the large wooden entry gates with their golden lions. They were slightly ajar and it looked as though there was a bonfire just outside.

Kallias and Erasmus linked hands and Aimeric gripped Jord’s as well.

Laurent felt the drumbeats pulse through the stones, through his bare feet and into his throat. _The Fire Festival_.

Slippery smooth, the two dancers disappeared through the crack in the gate but everyone else waited for Laurent to make the first move. He was their prince after all. And it would give him a head start for when he decided to escape from them and do a little exploring on his own.

“Let’s see what these wild southerners have in store for us.” He whispered, heart palpitating with nerves and curiosity.

He exited the safety of the palace walls.


	2. Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're moving up the color wheel! And with each chapter Laurent's thirst increases.  
> Oh my god he has encountered a handsome stranger that's like 6'7" and BEEFY as hell; I wonder who it could be??? This stranger is just as guilty of the thirst but at least he is a gracious host hehe ;)  
> To be totally honest, I would love to go to this Fire Festival. It sounds lit. Last chapter will post tomorrow along with the art for this story! Enjoy!

** Orange. **

It rushed over him like a forest fire would.

In a wave of orange and red and umber, in a blast of heat and violins and drums, in a cloud of cedar and sandalwood and something sharply sweet that Laurent could not name, he was thrust into the madness of the Akielon fertility festival.

Even used to the mad luxury of the Veretian court, Laurent was overwhelmed and immediately stumbled back so that he was pressed against the stone walls of the palace. Otherwise he would have been swept away by the jubilant crowd. Bare breasted, cocks out, masks and paint donned, the people of Ios swayed and danced down the streets, swallowing Erasmus and Kallias in the pagan parade.

Lazar emerged and grinned as he tossed himself enthusiastically into the throng of people. Berenger looked a little concerned and entered himself as Ancel breezed into the fray without a glance behind him. Jord held Aimeric a little closer, the two of them looking nervous.

Avoiding his men was easier than Laurent had even anticipated.

As the exuberant group passed, Laurent made his way through the alleyways, far from wherever his men had gone.

He felt freedom, away from the oppressive walls of Arles, freedom a bit like riding a fine horse at full speed.

It was a beautiful, warm night and curious as he was, he wandered the maze-like streets simply watching the festival-goers drinking and dancing and kissing seemingly everyone who passed. Glass globes with candles inside hung on ropes across every street, teenagers on the balcony showering the streets with flower petals and scented water and shimmering dust. It felt like a dream.

Laurent found a set of magnificent horses arrayed in golden bells and red and gold ribbons waiting idly by for their riders and he was unable to help himself. Velvety snouts nudged at his shoulders and pushed into his hands and he made soothing noises in the back of his throat.

“Oh gods, stop my heart, you beauty!” Someone called from far behind him. “I would give stables of finer horses if only to see your face!”

Laurent looked over his shoulder, wondering if the call was for him and saw a cluster of four Akielon gods lounging on a corner, one rolling his eyes behind his mask while the two others stared. Their stance and tone was not at all predatory and Laurent turned around to face them. He hoped the torches did not completely reveal the body beneath his silks.

Gods, but they were fine figures of men.

“You are in luck, sir.” He said in his accented Akielon and felt a horse nose nudge against his shoulder. “I am a lover of horses.”

“ _Must_ you?” One of the men groaned to his friends. One laughed while the other seemingly ignored him.

“But you heard him Nik, he is a lover of horses.”

“I also love witty banter.” Laurent replied tartly. There were smiles even from the disagreeable one. “No need to be shy.”

There were looks exchanged and then largest of the group, the tallest man Laurent had ever seen, disentangled himself from his friends and trotted over with confidence oozing from his massive form. He smiled on approach, his cheeks dimpling with a conflicting mixture of wickedness and sweetness. Laurent tried to pretend not to be charmed.

Gods, but man was a giant.

His chest was broad enough that even if Laurent splayed both hands across, his fingers would not span the breadth of it. He felt the sudden urge to do it. And trail his hands down that waist, over rippling biceps, the tree trunk legs, rubbing the nipples that were perky and likely dark brown under the even coat of gold paint that had been poured down his neck to beyond what Laurent could see.

From what he _could_ see beneath the gauzy excuse for a skirt the man had wrapped around his waist, the tip of him would rest comfortably in the sand if were to kneel on the wrestling pitch.

His long hair shimmered like dark waves and his eyes burned with the fire of the torches from behind a mask that looked to be made of real gold.

“Hello sweetheart.” He said in Akielon, voice like dark liquor.

“Let me guess,” Laurent put a bit of sharpness in his retort, allowing himself the luxury of flirtation now that no one knew who he was, “sun god? God of gold? King of the giants?” The handsome stranger laughed at that and looked at Laurent with renewed interest.

“Quick thing aren’t you? Sun god. The typical fare. Your selection…” Laurent saw the peep of a wet pink tongue, “much more daring.”

“Indulge me.” Laurent offered, cocking his hip, pleased when he saw that the man seemed to take notice. “I am…not from this area.” Perhaps he looked like Kallias and Erasmus, one of those people who had come from Marlas to celebrate.

The man grinned and Laurent wanted even more to twist his nipple. “You wear the mask of the intersex god Calyx, the one who blesses virgins.”

“You have gods for such things?” Laurent hoped the low light concealed what was sure to be a furious blush. He cursed his choice but could not bring himself to remove the mask and lose his anonymity. He liked being a mysterious stranger…flirting with someone who didn’t know him.

“We have great need of them.” The man said and his voice bordered on the lascivious. He was probably what the god in question tried to protect virgins from. Even beneath the mask, Laurent could see a handsome, noble face and boyish dimples and wide, glittering eyes.

Laurent could feel his icy sauciness liquefying.

“Perhaps I should change. I would hate for people to…assume.”

“You look fine the way you are.” The man should dress as the god of wolves for all he looked at Laurent like he wanted to devour him. “But…if you find the idea amenable, would you allow me to show you all the pleasures of the festival?”

“I bet you would like to.” Laurent hissed in Veretian under his breath. “Bet you would love to further show off that silver tongue of yours.”

The man fell in step beside him, warm breath tickling the soft hairs by Laurent’s ear. “Say the word I will perform miracles with this tongue.” Laurent flushed as he heard the beautiful, cultured Veretian coming from the man.

He wanted to tease and flirt with this man, wanted this god on earth to desire him more than any other gold-flecked beauty in the city. No one would recognize him as the prince this evening; he could do as he liked under the guise of anonymity and no one would know.

“You are free to do as you wish. I do not mind either way.”

Laurent cursed himself for being a prickly bitch—as the men of Arles would say to him after a particularly cutting turn of phrase—when the handsome Akielon stranger turned aside to go back to his friends. Maybe Laurent was just not the type to be loveable when he opened his mouth.

He had just resigned himself to having lost the company of one of the finer, quicker men in the city when he felt bare skin brush against his own. There was a smudge of gold on his shoulder. But more importantly, the sun god had decided to join him.

“I have told my friends of my intent to…escort you. Shall we?”

He took the lead with the casual stride of a man who had grown up in the city.

“What should I call you?” Laurent asked, admiring the curve of the man’s muscular ass through the sheer gauze of his skirt.

“Mmmm, call me what you like, sweetheart. Tonight I am the sun god.” Laurent felt a hesitant touch close to the gold chain of his hood. “I assume you are from the north? Perhaps close to Delpha?”

“Somewhere close to that.” Laurent responded carefully. It was not technically a lie. Arles was north of Ios and it was closer to Delpha.

“And do you have a name?”

“Charls.”

The man coughed though it could not fully disguise his laugh. _Rude_. “Surely not! You do not carry yourself like a man named Charls.” He tried to make diplomatic amends and Laurent pretended it was a great slight.

“How _dare_ you! I am named for my grandfather who shared my demure and prudish nature.” Coated in body paint and wearing a skirt that was effectively sheer, the statement was ridiculous and it did not take Laurent and his companion long to dissolve into laughter.

“Are you the type to never give straight answers?” The man asked once he had recovered himself; he seemed the ornery type to enjoy it.

“Forgive me for wanting to retain an air of mystery.” Laurent smiled.

“Of course. By all means let me know if my questions offend but I am simply enthralled by beautiful and mysterious strangers. Are you here with a lover?” The Akielon asked boldly.

“No. I have no lover.”

He grinned far too widely for Laurent to think him innocent. “I refuse to believe such a beauty has no suitors.” _I could say the same for you_.

“Many…” Laurent bit his bottom lip upon remembering some of the rumors he had heard, most likely spawning from men who did not find him as sweetly pliant as he looked, “many may find me difficult…to love.”

“How so?” His companion seemed affronted by the very thought.

“I do not show hesitation with astute…if blunt observations. Some people may take offense.” That was putting it mildly. If he was not a prince then he might have been punched a great deal more often over his mouth.

“You are sharp.” The Akielon said with a shrug. “And honest and it is clear you do not suffer fools. But some may find that beautiful in their own way. Perhaps they prefer sharp red wines or lying amidst rosebushes.”

“Having a venomous snake as a pet.” Laurent added.

He had meant it as another joke but the dark eyes behind the mask took on a look of hazy desire. “The Veretians to the North of you keep beauties as pets, do they not?” Laurent was sure he was red as a ripe tomato.

“You know of them then?”

“They remain quite popular in stories of Vere, though oftentimes their skills in relations to their masters are greatly exaggerated. Even so, you must not tempt me with such ideas. The thought of you as a pet…is _overwhelming._ ”

“You must not read such trashy fictions.” Laurent laughed to hide his blush. He too had no room to judge, as he too had very much enjoyed an older Veretian book about a man who had gone to Patras and Akielos to enjoy all manner of male lovers. Surely that was not the highest form of literature.

Any further joking was instantly stunned to silence when they entered the main street and were confronted with a positively wild tableau.

On a raised golden dais in the center of what was likely a market square, various masked and painted people were making love in front of a crowd in every position imaginable. Men and women, women and women, men and men, all open-mouthed and twisted together as vines without an ounce of shame. Laurent stared at some of them with mouth agape and his new companion must have been pleased with the skills of his countrymen.

His voice was the same deep, trembling baritone of the drums. “Beautiful is it not? Surely you have read the Book of Love? Detailing every position that might bring lovers joy?”

“I have, in fact.” Laurent responded dreamily. “We have a copy in our—in the library.” It was in the restricted section and Laurent had sneaked in once at age fourteen with a candle and burning curiosity. He had opened the book to the center only to find a very graphic depiction of one man pleasuring another with his tongue and had become so flustered that he had snapped the book shut and run to the closest empty room to relieve himself.

“What a coincidence. I have a copy in my bedroom.”

Laurent saw two men, one Akielon and gasping and the other pale with body paint similar to Lazar’s displaying the position in question and felt his lower half stir with interest.

“I had thought Akielons were prudish about making love in front of others.”

“Normally it is so.” The man smiled and shrugged his massive shoulders. “But this night we have the pleasure of anonymity, hence the masks and paint. Shall we continue on?”

His handsome companion led him through the streets that seemed to beat and throb and convulse like a living thing.

He bought Laurent wine without hesitation when Laurent expressed interest and the two of them drank deep as they wandered aimlessly through the wild streets of Ios.

Laurent stopped at the sight of slender manacles painted in a variety of metallic colors being hawked by a man with a sailors brogue. He must have latched on to Laurent's latent interest, because he began dangling the ones painted gold and pale blue before Laurent in unintelligible Akielon. He felt a reassuring and slightly possessive hand on his waist. 

"I don't understand—what are these for?"

In Vere such things would not even raise an eyebrow but in Akielos it seemed too brazen. 

"They are to keep lovers from being separated in the crowds." His guide added helpfully. "Though people may choose to use them again later in their...private lives." Laurent glared and blushed and the seller took notice, extrapolating in his rough Akielon. "He says flush red suits you." He said it with pride though his grip on Laurent's hip tightened by a fraction. 

_Jealous already?_

“His accent is…”

“From Isthima. Would you like a pair? I would hate to lose you so early…”

“Your hand seems to be doing an appropriate job of keeping me close. Though,” Laurent used his anonymity to be bold and grabbed his companion’s free hand. Laurent’s wrists were not girlishly dainty but the dark fingers were long enough to encircle them completely. Laurent nodded in satisfaction and both men looked thoroughly stunned. “Your hands might do the trick. These are completely unnecessary.”

“You are something else.” His companion’s voice was thick with desire and the seller seemed to be in agreement.

“Let’s go.”

Moving on, Laurent saw that the buying and selling had only just begun.

Attractive, naked men and women stood behind stalls selling sugared fruits and spiced wine and garlands of flowers and scented oils in vials on bits of leather rope. The brothel district saw prostitutes dancing outside their houses, wearing little more than loincloths made of gold coins. In the port, the boats were hung with glass lanterns and people dressed as merpeople and sea gods frolicked in the crystal clear waters.

And everywhere, _everywhere_ people were making love.

The two of them ran through the streets of Ios, hand in hand, and Laurent could barely keep his balance he was laughing so hard. Laurent gasped as someone blew smoke in his direction, the hot, spicy smell causing his nose and throat to prickle.

Long arms wrapped around him and pulled him out of the cloud, chastising the young woman who was spinning the incense burner. Laurent wanted to tell him not to worry so—it smelled lovely—but he found his tongue had inexplicably grown heavy in his mouth and his head lolled helplessly down a god-like bicep.

Whatever was in the incense was taking effect immediately.

The reds and yellows began to blur into an aura of heat and light, pulsing with his heartbeat. The statues of gold stood out like the blinking of stars— _gods they were_ moving _._

Through the sudden languorous haze his mind had entered, Laurent realized the gold statues he thought had come to life were actually Erasmus and Kallias, the slender young dancers who had painted him. They had donned golden anklets and bracelets that jingled together as their gyrated, their slender bellies rolling like waves to the drumbeats.

They smiled and their eyes seemed to burn golden orange before they linked their elegant golden fingers and began to kiss each other deeply.

Laurent watched them for a moment, transfixed by the display.

“Are you alright?” His voice tickled like drumbeats.

“I’m…amazing…”

“Shall we sit?”

Rather than finding a bench, Laurent found himself sitting on the lap of his companion, attempting conversation as they watched Erasmus and Kallias bend and roll in ways that most normal people could not.

“How is it...I had thought Ak—you southern men were notoriously…prudish.”

“Mmmm how very romantic of you,” His companion teased, “asking about ancient history whilst in the middle of a party.”

“Indulge me.” Laurent saw Kallias and Erasmus twisting together like vines, all long limbs and lips that were so close to touching.

“I am sure it began innocently enough, most likely with married couples or newlyweds or virgins asking the gods for favorable fates in love. And in the past we were once the same nation with Vere in the north. They are exceedingly fond of excess—or were in the past and I’m sure this masquerade came about from our time with them. It is the time of year when we feel close to the gods, when our love is seen as something holy and worth publicly celebrating.”

“How very sensible.” Laurent said wanting to laugh. “No great story to supplement it? No king who wished to rut in the streets as he liked?” His companion looked at him with faux annoyance. “I cannot believe the origin story lacks all the interesting aspects of a story.”

Lips were very close and very warm next to the gold chainmail over his ear and Laurent almost hoped he would close the distance and kiss Laurent’s cheek. Then Laurent could blame any decisions afterward on that catalyst.

“Shall I come up with a proper story for you then, if you are so picky?”

“Please.” Laurent accepted his offer and tried to lean back into the kiss.

“The story goes as so: the Sun God descended from the earth, filled with fire and desire.”

“Naturally. I suppose he wore a mask for anonymity’s sake.” Laurent joked, flicking a finger so that the Akielon stranger’s mask went askew. He righted it with a laugh, all pearls set in the gold of his skin.

“Of course! Any lovely thing who found they were sitting on the lap of a god—for example—would have to be spirited away into the heavens.”

“How honorable of him, to make an honest lover of them.”

“Indeed.

“In any case, there were other deities there, the goddesses of love and beauty, herbs, and fire, the gods of gold and wine and the harvest. And of course with the goddess of love and beauty came her precious child, Calyx.”

“God or Goddess?”

“Neither. Both. Most have Calyx with the parts of men and women. I suppose any form would bring them honor.” Though Calyx was not in his books in Akielon culture, Laurent could imagine them very clearly. Soft, spring-like, desirable and virginal. “I suppose, at the very first glance, the Sun God endeavored to…woo the beautiful Calyx.”

Laurent felt arms squeeze around his waist, smudging the careful gold paint there. He was beginning to see the parallels of this particular ‘fiction’. “How very…bold of him. To try and seduce the protector of virgins?”

“Ah, but we would not celebrate had he not succeeded.” Laurent felt warm fingers brush away an errant strand of his hair.

“And it is called the Fire Festival because at the moment of their joining all the candles and fireplaces and torches caught flame and the sands of the beaches burnished to glass?” Laurent continued, seeing a pale form begin to seemingly spin fire in his hands.

“Oh so you _have_ heard this story before!”

Laurent turned back to face the Akielon, his smile toying. “You have left out the best part: how the wooing was accomplished.”

The smile in return was equally wicked. “Why don’t you do the honor of finishing the tale? Tell me the flirtations that would bring a virgin deity to their knees.” Laurent was sure his ears were scarlet.

“I—.”

His retort was interrupted by the appearance of a large, laughing group carrying seemingly endless bottles of wine. The raven-haired nymph at the head of the group kindly offered them both a cup, complimenting Laurent on his golden veil, and he accepted the offer.

He drank the wine in one gulp and felt a single errant drop slide down his neck.

As easily as breath, his companion swiped the bead of wine with his thumb and popped it into his mouth while conversing with the girl and her friends. The fire dancer had stripped off his clothes, revealing a pink cock encased in a bronze ring while someone from the audience was trying to pull him to their chest.

Laurent felt the beginnings of an itch in his hips.

“Would you both like to join our company?” The young woman asked. “We are to the city guard where they have set up a fountain of wine.”

“The decision is yours, Calyx.”

Laurent did not want to share his handsome witty companion. His warm arms combined with the lovely bouquet of the wine and what he strongly suspected was drugged incense had him feeling adventurous. He leaned up to the spot where the man’s handsome jaw met his ear.

“I…I would prefer…to be in private with you.”

Then, quite boldly for him, Laurent kissed that dark brown earlobe and pulled back, feeling a little shy. The man looked as though he had been thunderstruck.

“Is that wine _anthism_ _éno_?” He asked the girl, using Akielon that Laurent had never encountered before. She smiled back at him and winked before she and her friends passed on. “Oh fuck…”

“The wine?”

“Blooming.” His companion offered as if that would explain everything.

“Ah… Have I been poisoned?”

“In a manner of speaking. We should get you some water.”

Getting up from the sea wall, Laurent allowed himself to be led down the twisting streets again, his heartbeat beginning to race as if he was running. Along the way he saw couples constantly writhing in the shadows, pulling and pushing. A young man with brown curls and Veretian white skin gasping. The hold on Laurent’s hand was gentle, friendly in comparison. Everyone else had partners, lovers, save for him the god of virginity.

Laurent warm and filled with fire and pulsing blood, felt jealousy fill his chest.

He stopped mid-stride and his hand slid out of the grasp of the Akielon Sun God.

“Do you want me?” Laurent asked without preamble.

His eyes were liquid dark behind his golden mask. “What do you mean?”

“Do you…desire me?” He was unsure. So many men desired him but they wanted the conquest, the possession. “Me. Do you… _want_ me?”

“You are new to the festival. I would not force—.” Laurent boldly put a finger to halt the flow of excuses and gold paint stained the pad of his fingertip. The lips moved slightly, the whisper of a kiss. The lips moved down, the kiss deepening into the flesh of Laurent’s palm. “It is too much. On this night…I—forgive me, words fail me. I do want you. I would like to…” the back of his hand brushed against Laurent’s throat, “I would like to do you justice. You should have your choice of men. It would be my honor to be your choice but you need not force yourself.”

How very droll, that he should be the one chasing. _But what a man, and surely one worth chasing_. He cupped the man’s wrist, finding the skin beneath smooth and beautifully brown. The kiss he put there left the faint outline of golden lips.

Laurent tilted his head up in expectation, his hands resting softly on muscular forearms.

The kiss was a furnace, it was hot and warm in turns, filled with promise but so very tender. Laurent could embarrassingly feel all the pent-up desire that must have been broiling beneath the surface for hours. It was palpable in every touch; he held Laurent like he was something wildly precious.

Laurent felt a wall against his back and hesitating fingertips on the hem of his skirt. The man had left plenty of room for Laurent escape if he so chose and he was grateful for the gesture.

“Outside?” Laurent gasped between kisses. He pulled the man’s head forward for another kiss, effectively eliminating any chance of a prompt answer.

When they finally broke apart again, his suitor made a compelling point. “It might be seen as odd if we do not.” He cupped the small of Laurent’s bare back and Laurent could see that several other couples were rutting in the shadows, the curves and muscles glowing orange as they pumped away. “Though if you find the idea uncomfortable, we can find another space.”

 _Fuck it_.

“You…you will be gentle?”

“It is in my name. I must be gentle.”

“I suppose I shall have to remove this mask then…”

The Akielon did not need any further invitation, spinning Laurent so his chest was pressed against the wall and his back could be lavished with attention. He felt lips and tongue on the tense wings of his shoulder blades and the gentle slope of his backbone. Then he felt something entirely different, something slick and liquid spreading over his skin.

He looked back and found it was a vial of oil—rose-scented and flecked with gold.

“Aren’t you prepared?” His voice was a ragged mix of laughter and breathiness.

There was kiss on his shoulder and then a careful bite on his earlobe. “Of course. Who knows if the gods will place a beauty like you in my arms? I intend to have you crying their names in thanks.”

“What a bold mouth you have.” Laurent laughed wondering if he would be so mouthy if he knew Laurent was a prince. “If you do not make good on your word I fear it will sour the festival for me.”

“We can’t have that.”

As hands traced his flank, Laurent helpfully arched so that his hips jutted out, ass spread slightly.

His companion, the Sun God, inhaled sharply at Laurent spread open before him. “You want this? You want me, you beauty?” Gentle lips ran unhurriedly down Laurent’s cheekbone, over his neck, at the corner of his mouth while fingers traced the skin of the unpainted swathes of his skin. Laurent felt a thick stream of oil slide down between his buttocks.

“Are you not the Sun God? Am I not Calyx? Let us continue the story.”

“Then…” The hands moved from Laurent’s body to his face, the gentle fingers pushing the veil back so that the soft gold of Laurent’s hair spilled out across his shoulders.

Laurent looked back and the very god of the sun painted his lips in golden leaf. _My first proper kiss_ , he thought sweetly as hands cupped his cheeks. And _what_ a kiss it was.

“I will make it so the story is an epic.” He whispered into Laurent’s mouth.

 _By the gods if those Akielons didn’t have a way with words._ He could only pray to the gods that they had the lovemaking to match. _Another kiss_ …


	3. Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for the end (and the popsicle that I decided to keep in with the input of Mels, Tumbles, and tinyhatred)!  
> Thanks to everyone who read this story, commented, bookmarked, left kudos, etc. and to all the awesome people online who I bounced ideas off of! And my artist, frau-argh, who is so talented and sweet! I know this is just a simple smut fic, but it was so cathartic not to have to create a massive plot and spend hours writing a massive fic.  
> I hope you guys enjoy the last chapter of this year's mini bang fic ;)

** Red. **

He picked Laurent apart little by little, all soft kisses and smooth thrusts.

If Laurent’s inhibitions were like his Veretian laces, then this gold-painted god unthreaded each one, savoring the feel of the silk beneath his fingertips as the clothes peeled off Laurent like petals off a flower. Shudders rippled down his spine in concentric circles as he felt warm, dry hands on his skin and breath at his nape. Every part of him was an exposed nerve.

Laurent smelled roses, he was drunk on them, he felt like he was becoming a rose and this man was curling gentle fingers in the soft pink shadows between his petals. His cries were muffled by the drumbeats.

“Do my fingers give you pain?” His lover asked as Laurent jerked. He had been in the process of circling Laurent’s rim with one finger while two other’s gently curled up inside of him. Laurent made an indignant noise as they began to withdraw.

He was so filled with desire and pleasure and tension that he unthinkingly reverted back to Veretian, the words like wine, better for begging in heat.

“You touch my pulse, you play with my heart—don’t remove your fingers, _please_ —I will b-burst apart if you release me!”

There was a soft bite on his shoulder, the fingers slid back in—keys in an oiled lock—and Laurent striped the wall in two swipes of white. The careful coils and curls that Erasmus had lovingly painted on his skin were now smooth waves like bars of golden sheet music. Somehow he liked it better that way.

Gently, Laurent was embraced in gold, the gilded front of his lover making a near perfect stamp on the canvas of Laurent’s back.

The questions, the assurances that _yes_ he did want this more than oxygen faded to foam and steam in the corners of their mouths and Laurent felt himself rise into the air on his toes. A mix of pleasure and anticipation and the slightest twitch of pain, speared him, sliding up the golden conduits of his painted skin and he was melting, falling apart, opening up, blooming…

He had been right to wait, right to save himself for this.

His body gripped the hot coal of a cock like he was trying to keep it inside him forever—so _this_ was what was meant by the Fire Festival. His hips followed it naturally, unwilling to let go.

So much made sense.

The music was timed to his breath. His body moved with the flames. He saw gold stars in his vision.

His hands raked down the plaster and dark, gold smeared fingers pulled his lips open. “Breathe…breathe…”

Laurent obediently gulped in warm night air as he came endlessly, helplessly. His fingers were clawed, his back arched, and his legs might have given way if he had not been seated on something very firm.

Three rolling waves of completion, one right after the other.

His gasping noises were lewd, the thumb rubbing his lips reminding him to breathe. Gods, so this was what was worthy tribute to the gods of love. Laurent would worship them daily if he could.

The Akielon waited until Laurent’s legs stopped shaking before he withdrew and brushed the sweat damp hair from Laurent’s nape. “My Calyx…I hope one day I could know your name so I might call it out in the throes of pleasure.”

“Your silver tongue does not match the rest of you.” Laurent replied, placing his forehead against the cool plaster of the building in front of him. He was still running as red hot as the wick of one of the candles glowing around him.

“Did you touch Elysium?” His lover asked cheekily. As Laurent recalled, it was the Akielon way of asking after orgasms.

“Touched? I gripped it with both hands. And you?”

“You are so tight. I would be unfeeling if I could not.”

“I…never knew it could be like this.” Laurent whispered.

“I would show you every pleasure…once you can walk again.”

His tone was so smug that Laurent bit that kiss-swollen bottom lip when the Akielon sun god leaned in for another kiss. “Continuing the legend, are we?” The next kiss stretched to a smile on his lips.

Although it took another half hour of kissing for Laurent to feel steady on his legs, it did not take the both of them very long to find the next debauchery.

There was a crowd gathered around a circular dais raised around the edge of an impressive marble fountain.

Keeping with the theme of the night everyone on the platform and most of the people in the crowd were making love in a languorous stupor. The details swam before Laurent’s eyes.

A man in wolf ears and tail with pale skin streaked with red paint or blood was rutting with a thickly cut Akielon lounging on a sheepskin. A woman with familiar golden waves poured wine from her mouth into her lover’s. Laurent saw two naked dancers cut through the crowd, running towards something important. He was so transfixed that it took him a moment to feel the kisses of a lover on his neck.

His kisses had the sharpness of wine. “Shall we do something wild?”

Laurent looked up at the writhing display and felt a hummingbird pulse thrumming just under the surface of his skin. He nodded before he could find any sort of shyness that had not been fucked out of him.

His companion was in the possession of a form that could part crowds easily.

The two of them ran up the dais, Laurent feeling himself still gaping and spilling over with all the liquid inside of himself. Laughing to compensate for expectation and nerves, he draped bonelessly across a chair frosted over with golden leaf and heard a cheer from those in the crowd who were still somewhat paying attention. Indulgent by the attention, Laurent let his limbs fall open like petals, like some languorous youth in a tastefully erotic painting.

His vision blurred as his head lolled and he saw a sea of faces in a single flicker of red-orange. A spot of green caught his eye and he was enchanted by the swipes of emerald paint, continually made even wider by the hands of the lover behind the green-striped body. At first Laurent thought the man was holding a rope of flame but it was actually long red hair he was yanking like reins, much to his lover’s delight. Laurent could have sworn he had seen the two of them before but his mind was a mess of wool from drinks and drugs and abject pleasure.

He felt breath tickling his inner thighs and nearly snapped his legs closed.

He saw his sun god kneeling before him, the stubble of his chin carving patterns in the sensitive skin. Laurent wanted his entire body cross-hatched with scratches from the hairs.

“You are taking liberties.” He meant to sound authoritative but his lips and tongue moved like honey.

“By the graces of the gods, I would take more.” He smiled enough to break Laurent’s heart. 

“Well if you will not be deterred...”

There was a laugh and another kiss dangerously close to the base of Laurent’s cock, which made him arch a little in his throne.

“Yes?” Laurent felt the shaft of his cock brush against the soft plane of a cheek.

“ _Yes_.”

There was a kiss on the tip of him— _worship_ , he thought hazily as his toes trembled—and then the soft curl of a tongue.

The feeling was like heaven.

Laurent was surrounded by gods and the king of them was sucking him tenderly, his warm, pointed tongue tracing the curves of his cock. He was suckling Laurent dry, the soft muscles of his cheeks rubbing against the shaft. Laurent could only toss his head back and let it happen in delicious waves.

At some point he found he disliked that soft warmth pulling away and took two large handfuls of black curls, making sure his hips were flush with that skillful mouth.

With practiced ease, his lover tossed both of Laurent’s legs over his shoulders so all of Laurent’s weight was resting on his upper body. Laurent clapped one hand over his mouth, while the other kept hold of that thick hair.

Through hazy eyes Laurent saw his toes trembling above what looked like a sea of flames.

And the whole time that tongue was memorizing the length of him, the taste, feeling the jerks of it as Laurent received his first ever oral pleasure. Hands tickled his flank, squeezed his ass and finally pulled at the hand over Laurent’s mouth.

He only pulled away to kiss Laurent’s palm. “Call for me when you touch Elysium.”

Laurent could not ask what he should call out because the head descended again and his toes curled backwards. He did not even know his own name—much less shout out the name of another—as ‘Elysium’ came rushing back to him, swift as hit to the gut.

“ _Nikandros!_ ”

Laurent came to the cheers of a crowd and, after regaining his sense, was somewhat pleased it was not for him.

His lover was looking up at the dais and laughing, something shiny and wet trailing down the cords of his throat. “My friend, my friend has been named the Lord of the Fire Festival.” Laurent did see a handsome specimen with the paint the color of wine staining his muscular forearms, a gold ring around his cock, gold chains at his hips. “ _Nikandros_! All hail our Lord of Fire Nikandros!”

The whole crowd was chanting it, chanting the man’s name as he was lead the top of the wine-filled fountain and given a cup of something that was burning at the surface. Laurent gasped as he tossed it back and the crowd screamed in delight.

“Nikandros! Nikandros!”

Laurent felt kisses at his ankles as he was swept away with the crowd and began to chant the man’s name. His lover looked up at him jealously. “Must you chant another man’s name?”

“Even though he is your friend?”

“Say his name again and I will carry you far from this place and pleasure you until you only cry for me.” His voice was a low whisper but Laurent heard it through all the drums and the shouts and the moans.

Laurent leaned forward to lick the salt-sweet trail of himself that was drying on the man’s throat. There was a rumble like a purr or a growl through that dark skin.

“Fuck Nikandros. I would prefer to rut in the shadows than be close to the Lord of Fire.”

His grin was wide, the dimple heartbreaking. And Laurent let the beautiful Akielon with the clever mouth and the sweet dimple to scoop him up and help him off the dais.

Laurent actually felt as though he were floating over the cobblestone streets, mostly because his lover was half-carrying him. The streets smelled strongly of incense again and the flickers from the glass globes rose like fireflies from the street. They lingered as the Akielon god pulled helped him into an alcove that was dark and quiet. Laurent yelped as his feet brushed against several waving edges of silk which turned out to be the petals of lilies surrounding a shallow circle of water.

An atrium, an oasis in the middle of the madness.

Tiptoeing over the flowers, past the mosaic pool in the center, Laurent pressed himself against the warm walls and felt hands at his nipples.

“This is someone’s house.”

“This is someone’s empty garden.” His companion corrected. “No one will see us here.” There was a kiss on Laurent’s ear. “And no one will mind.”

“You’re a madman.”

“Tell me your fantasies.” Came the whisper behind his blushing ear. “Tell me everything you have always dreamed of doing beneath the sheets, show them to me and I will do everything I ask. I will service you thoroughly.”

Laurent felt his heartbeat in his tongue as his fingers remembered the exact page in the Book of Love where he had seen the two men lapping at each other.

Taking a steadying breath, Laurent leaned close to his lover and told him the story of how he had seen the detailed picture of the intimate tonguing. Luckily for his nerves, his attentive audience did not laugh or betray any emotion other than serious intent. His dark fingers even stopped rubbing circles on Laurent’s nipples.

When he finished, Laurent could feel his face was scarlet. He could not stand the dark, serious gaze studying him.

“What?”

“You said that your bud was aching,” he said carefully, “and we have a way to care for it. Will you wait for me here?”

“As if I could run away in this state.”

He laughed, delighted by his own prowess, before kissing Laurent on the lips and running back out of the quiet garden and into the thick of the festival. Laurent, while waiting, did indeed rub himself a bit, feeling the hot, swollen spot there and shivering a bit.

When his companion returned, it was with a stick of frozen fruit ice, molded in the shape of a cock. The red of the ice looked lewd and Laurent suckled it the moment it was offered. The Akielon’s eyes flashed.

“It’s sweet but I fail to see how this will help with—oh. _Oh_.”

It occurred to him and goosebumps rose on his buttocks.

“May I?” The sun god was already crouching to the ground, holding the stick in hand.

“It will get sticky.”

“I’ll lick it clean.”

Laurent had never accepted something faster, pulling himself open so that the cool tip of the sweet ice rested against his opening. It felt like the sweetness of ice on a burn and it slid in so easily after the thickness of his lover had stretched him open. He screamed into his wrist as the muscles inside him clenched and found only the uncompromising ice.

He was lazily fucked with it, the sweet ice melting and pooling inside him, though some spilled out down his legs.

It seemed like ages before the ice melted into a syrupy pool that threatened to dribble out at any moment; especially when his lover withdrew the much-depleted cylinder.

The anticipation shuddered up Laurent’s legs as he felt lips running sweet lines over the muscles of his legs and buttocks where the dripping ice had left strawberry lines. He dared not hope but…he felt _tongue_ next. A warm thick tongue traced the curve where his ass met his legs and it was a sincere struggle not to let himself spill out just from the implication.

“It’s sweet.” His lover commented. “And your bud is bright red. Little strawberry…”

Laurent shrieked, actually shrieked, as the broad flat of a hot tongue swiped across his hole. His knee scraped hard against the wall in his desperation to hitch himself up higher for easier access and his lover chuckled at his eagerness. A wide hand held him up by the thigh.

“Is it good?”

“ _You’ve stopped_.”

“I did. My apologies.”

One hand of Laurent’s dug into the plaster, the other winding through long black curls so he could push that tongue deep inside him. Shamelessly he rode the Akielon’s face, his entire body clenching hard around that singular point. It felt like the penultimate point of orgasm in a constant stream and he was melting from both sides accordingly.

When the Akielon came up for air, he had long streaks of strawberry syrup down his throat and Laurent had nearly yanked out a piece of the wall with his bare hands.

“More?”

“ _Please_.”

The tongue was thrust back in, warming up the muscles clenched tight from the cold ice. The tips of fingers thrust inside a few times, rubbing gently at the edges so Laurent would open wider…wider…

His body happily obliged and the whole tongue thrust inside of him, displacing an alarming amount of liquid. It curled up inside him and Laurent gasped, thrusting his hips backwards as another gush of pleasure splashed against the walls.

“Oh _gods_ …”

“You almost broke my nose.” His lover laughed. “Truly a thing of power and beauty.” His tongue was lewd and red and shiny. “And you seem to have succumbed. As I hoped you would.” Laurent moaned inside his mouth as fingers rubbed a circle around him.

“More?” Laurent asked, proud of his voice that it did not completely betray his desperation.

“Mmmm.” He was teasing again, clearly having already decided. “Be forewarned. If I start again, I’ll not stop until your legs give out.” He licked his lips and Laurent would have given the gods half his soul for more of this pleasure.

Laurent gripped those black curls and rested his knee against the wall so his lover could see all of him. He saw the desire in those dark eyes and shrugged.

“A fair trade.”

When Laurent finally gained clarity—slicing through the oil and music and pleasure and gold paint—he woke up once again being cradled on his companion’s lap. They were sitting again on the sea wall and that broad, muscular back was shielding Laurent from the cool ocean breeze.

“You’re awake.”

“No…” Laurent went limp. His ass was numb.

“Wake up.” The breath was pleasantly warm right by his ear, “We must get you home.”

“I do not care to return just yet. Is there not…a private place? Where I can linger with you a little longer?” He looked up and marveled still at how handsome the face was under the mask.

“Such a tender request,” he leaned down to trace Laurent’s cheekbone, “how could I refuse?” He kissed Laurent’s lips softly.

"Carry me." Laurent murmured, half unconscious from the wine and the hour and the exercise. If he was up late it was usually due to reading something interesting in the comfort of his own bed, not gallivanting through a foreign city while half out of his mind and fully out of his clothes. 

A face nuzzled in his hair and he relaxed into the warm arms embracing him, uncaring of the paint that must have gotten in his hair. "Are you giving me an order?"

"I order you to carry me." Laurent amended and his lover chuckled softly in amazement.

"I wonder if you would continue your imperious tone when morning comes."

"I wonder if you would dare be foolish enough to have me repeat myself. I am very important."

A kiss came next.

"I like your cheek." Laurent only hoped the man would like it if he were to find out he was the prince of Vere.

Luckily he offered no further witty retorts and Laurent found himself lifted up into the air. It was a damned good thing too, because despite all of his ridiculous requests, he honestly didn't think he would be able to walk more than a few steps. Surely his legs would give out beneath him and he would collapse onto the cobblestones blushing and laughing like some drunkard outside the tavern.

As he was carried through the streets, Laurent was able to take in a few things.

The sky was a sort of a lavender burgeoning on pink, indicating the dawn rapidly approaching and he saw some of the candles had burnt out into viscous white puddles. They did not pass many others and he was vaguely sure the pounding in his ears was just the residual pain in his eardrums.

“Is the festival over?” He whispered, pressing his head into his lover’s chest where it was dark and warm. The godling held him closer.

“You wish for more? I underestimated you.”

Laurent laughed and nipped at the nipple closest to his mouth. “I wish for a quiet place. And,” he was emboldened while hiding his face, “I wish for you to comfort me in a proper bed.”

There was a cough that might have covered a laugh or a gasp. “How rude of me. I’ll make amends immediately.”

He would never admit it but Laurent fell asleep for a short time, lulled by the warmth and the healthy heartbeat next to his cheek. In any case, when he regained consciousness, he was resting half on a bed and half on his lover. It was a more pleasant arrangement than his accommodations at the palace.

“Mmmmm,” He made his delight known through a soft noise of pleasure, nestling down against his ‘mattress’. A hand ran through his hair, massaging his scalp, and Laurent shuddered. The feeling was almost sexual it felt so good. “Don’t stop…please.”

The Akielon man played with his hair and scratched Laurent’s back.

“I hope…I will not only ever see you again in dreams. I think…I could come to love you, sweet as you are.”

Laurent smiled into that dark, warm skin. “Silver tongued.”

“I speak the truth.”

Rarely had it happened. But this beautiful man found him sweet. It was nice, it was…

When Laurent woke again he was surprised to find that he was devoid of the throbbing headache that normally accompanied a night of drinking and merriment. There was throbbing in other places—mainly his hips and ass and lower back and his throat from squealing loudly for an entire night—but at least his wits were still with him. Small blessings.

He shifted slightly and felt warmth from all angles.

Surely he had fallen asleep in a patch of sunshine, and he prayed that he had not fallen asleep outside. Auguste would not be pleased to hear that his younger brother ended his diplomatic career by being found on the streets of Akielos naked, asleep and most thoroughly fucked.

Without opening his eyes, Laurent wriggled, trying to wake his body, as he lifted his weight up on his elbows and—

Something long and heavy and warm draped suddenly over Laurent’s bare waist and he felt himself falling. That was enough reason to open his eyes and his yelp of dismay was muffled as he was crushed against a torso seemingly carved out of solid gold-flecked brown rock. Long tendrils of black hair fell in his face and he looked up to a superb view.

Breathtaking view, actually, or maybe that was just the firm embrace.

It was his Akielon companion from the festival, looking like he had just eaten the ass of the Akielon god of gold, what with all the shimmering paint on his face. Blushing, Laurent recalled all the things they _had_ done and thought that it wasn’t quite so far from the truth. And, thank the gods, they were in a bed, albeit one Laurent was unfamiliar with.

Gods, he was handsome though.

 _What a jaw and nose!_ Laurent felt his mouth go dry looking at the man’s lips and would have leaned up to kiss him if he were able to fucking move. It seemed an affront to nature that this god was so close and yet Laurent could not kiss him.

He tried to break free of the delightful prison he was in and when he looked up again, one dark eye was open and looking at him.

His massive bedmate smiled, his cheek dimpling deep and he promptly buried his face down against Laurent’s neck. “Mmmm…you are even more beautiful in the morning light.” He murmured in Veretian in between kissing the red-violet suckle marks dotted across Laurent’s neck.

How could he resist? Laurent turned his head so his mouth might receive attention and his handsome lover was more than willing to accommodate. Quite naturally, Laurent spread his legs as little wider than was decent to provide better traction. It must have been a side effect of the incense that they had so much energy so early in the morning.

“Were you pleased?” The man asked, his tone a little shy, as if he had been the one who was deflowered.

“You should know the answer to that yourself.” The night was coming back to Laurent in longer and longer pieces and he was sure his face was as vibrantly red as the throbbing spot between his ass cheeks. “I have…no complaints.”

“Your compliments, reluctantly given, are precious.” The man brightened, kissing each of Laurent’s eyelids.

“I am anything but reluctant.” Laurent assured him and felt his lover shiver as he brushed his knuckles over something long and thick and warm. His face was buried in dark curls as a heavy head plunked against his collarbone.

“You are beautiful torture.” The kiss deepened and Laurent began to lose himself. He smelled roses again and his hips began to writhe.

“I should go.” Laurent whispered against the man’s lips wanting desperately not to.

“Stay a little longer in my arms.” He sounded distraught in response, cupping Laurent’s face delicately. “Please. I cannot bear to give you up just yet.”

Surely Jord and Berenger and the princes were looking for him. His absence would have been noted and he did not want to be found in a compromising position. But…he also desperately wanted more. His mind chastised him as he wrapped his arms around that gorgeous dark column of a neck.

“How long,” _kiss_ , “will you stay,” _kiss,_ “in Ios?” His companion asked in between kisses. “If it pleases you,” _kiss_ , “I would see you,” _kiss_ , “every day.”

_How very presumptuous of him._

“I can…make no promises.” Laurent thought bitterly of the crown prince for dragging him from this gold-flecked embrace. The sheets glimmered too with flakes of golden paint. “I have business…in the palace.”

The man smiled against the skin between Laurent’s pectorals. “I am sure they could spare you…for my sake.”

“Are you a god then?” Laurent half laughed, half gasped as a warm mouth clamped down on his nipple. There was no immediate response but Laurent much preferred him to suck rather than speak. As his hands gripped a good amount of long black hair, he also happened to take a look at his surroundings.

The room was large and open, tastefully decorated and filled with plenty of natural sunlight. Laurent would guess they had found themselves in a very wealthy person’s bedchambers.

“You seemed to think so last night.” His smile was wide and wicked. Laurent was helpless to it.

“I should go,” He insisted again as he saw the deep yellow of what was sure to be midmorning light at least. He inhaled the sweet smell of the man’s hair, hitching his leg up a little as the night came back to him in pieces. “I am to meet with my host this evening and I must make a good impression. He has been avoiding me for most of my stay.”

“How very boorish of him.” The smile was cheeky but his tone had an edge of seriousness to it. “Perhaps I should go with you to impress on this terrible host what a delight you are.”

Laurent laughed, wondering how Prince Damianos would handle such a man.

“You are a force of nature.” Laurent laughed and then inhaled as a knuckle grazed the curve of his ass.

“I would see you again, if your hosts can spare you.” The longing was clear and Laurent felt his heart stutter.

“I…I too…I will try.”

His grin was bright and his impressive body shifted under the layers of sheets so he could stretch up and plant shallow kisses on Laurent’s lips. “We have the morning…at least.”

It was hard to argue with that logic.

Soft hands, gentle hands…the man had none of the frenzied hunger from the previous night. His touches now were slow and leisurely, as if they had been lovers for months and months.

Laurent rocked his hips back and forth against a muscular thigh, his moans muffled by kisses over his mouth. His lover had discovered a jar of cold cream and was massaging Laurent’s swollen hole in small circles.

He helpfully spread his legs and hoped that he would be fucked to fainting again.

There was an insistent knock at the door and Laurent jerked with surprise. Perhaps they had overstayed their welcome and the homeowner was ready to have his room vacated and his sheets cleaned. The gods were cruel but the fingers stayed.

His lover did not seem at all concerned. He did not move from where he was cradling Laurent and narrowed his eyes at the interruption. “Who is it?” He called coldly and Laurent could only marvel at the balls on him. It was amazing how he could be so impertinent in someone else’s home.

“Forgive me,” Came a hoarse voice from outside the door, “but we are trying to locate someone very important and we are wondering if he is within. Might we be allowed to enter?”

“They may be looking for me.” Laurent admitted, hating the people outside for attempting to tear him from this bed. His bedmate looked down at him, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I told you, I am very important.”

In one smooth, gentle movement, the Akielon man pulled Laurent close and covered him with one of the gold-smudged sheets so that only his neck and hair were on display. One heavy arm draped across Laurent’s hip in a way that was distinctly possessive. Fingers were still there and Laurent pushed back into them.

Laurent, weak as he was, was more aroused than anything.

“Come in.”

The men—quickly revealed to be some members of the palace guard—needed no further invitation and colored quickly when they saw the two people lounging in the disheveled bed. Laurent peeped over his bare shoulder and saw Jord amongst the guards, gaping at him.

“Your Highness?”

“Yes?” Laurent jumped a little as he heard a much deeper echo to his own response coming from somewhere near his right ear. He looked up hesitantly and saw a similar look of surprise coming from the man he had just spent the entire previous night fucking. “D-did you…did you just respond to ‘Your Highness’?” He asked. His mind was coming up with rapid explanations and…

“Prince Laurent, I have been looking—.” Jord began and Laurent immediately knew that he had not been looking for more than five minutes at most. The saliva on the kiss marks around his neck was still shining.

Jord was swiftly interrupted by the man holding Laurent who looked down at him with a dazzling mix of shock, delight, and laughter. “ _You_ are Prince Laurent of Vere? The little prince who does nothing but read all day?” It sounded as though he had been reading some of Auguste’s letters and he scanned Laurent’s face and body as if looking for the tight-laced, frigid scholar in the liquid-hot golden virgin who had ridden him to wilting only hours before.

“I am.” Laurent responded, refusing to show any sort of embarrassment that he could not be both. “And you are?” He had a vague inkling from the fine room and the palace guards and…

The man above him gave a teasing bow so that their foreheads touched. “A pleasure Your Highness. I am Damianos, the Crown Prince of Akielos.” And then a whisper, “More than just the morning then.”

Laurent blushed.


End file.
